


Afterglow

by Fire_Sign



Series: Phrack Fucking Fridays [20]
Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, pff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-19 00:02:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14224722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fire_Sign/pseuds/Fire_Sign
Summary: Jack had imagined sex with Phryne Fisher. He’d have been hard-pressed not to, the way she offered and flirted so often. He had never really imagined the moments after, his chest still heaving and his limbs heavy with release and that impossible woman lying beside him, her head propped on her hand as she stared at him intently.“What was the worst sex you’ve ever had?”Phryne and Jack discuss previous lovers.





	Afterglow

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I constantly joke that my first draft smut scenes remind me of the school guidance counselor Ms Perky in !0 Things I Hate About You. Somehow this led to me thinking it would be a brilliant idea to pay homage to Allison Janney's genius in a fic. It was not, and yet here we are. I apologise.
> 
> Also, the term 'banger' for sausage came around during the First World War--there was very little meat, but lots of water and cereal in wartime sausages, and they would often spit, fizzle, and even explode. The fact that I had to explain both sausages and a nearly-twenty-year-old teen film just to get a PFF makes sense should tell you all you need to know about the quality. Oh, AND it's going up on barely-Friday-in-my-timezone because I'm busy. Really, this whole thing is a hot mess, but it made me laugh.

Jack had imagined sex with Phryne Fisher. He’d have been hard-pressed not to, the way she offered and flirted so often. He had never really imagined the moments after, his chest still heaving and his limbs heavy with release and that impossible woman lying beside him, her head propped on her hand as she stared at him intently. 

“What was the worst sex you’ve ever had?” 

“Not that,” Jack groaned.

Phryne rolled her eyes. “I should hope not. So… worst sex?”

“You really want to know?”

“I’m curious.”

“That’s one word for it.”

“And you’re the madman that followed me.”

He grinned. “I had high expectations for the sex.”

Leaning toward him, her eyes closed, she brushed her lips against his--he moved to deepen the kiss and she pulled away, eyes flicking open.  

“You’re insufferable when you’re smug, Jack. Worst sex?”

“I… don’t know.”

“Nonsense.”

It was nonsense, but he had no desire to taint this moment with thoughts of his failing marriage. A happier memory came to him though, one he hadn’t thought of in over a decade.

“If you insist then,” he said. “Newlyweds. Married long enough that we had worked out the … initial difficulties, but we were still fumbling our way. The blind leading the blind. It was dreadful.”

She laughed in delight, running her hand against his side and leaning in to kiss his throat. The surety in her touch, the easiness… he swallowed hard, the immensity of this moment--in bed, with Phryne, sharing intimate details of his marriage… it overwhelmed him. Sensing the change in emotions, Phryne pulled him closer.

“You don’t have to tell me,” she said quietly. “If it’s too…”

“Much?” Jack supplied. “I wasn’t aware you were familiar with the concept.”

She pinched him lightly.

“I’m being serious, Jack.”

“So am I,” he countered, chuckling. “But no, it’s not too much. I came home one evening and Rosie was there--fresh from the bath, wearing this lacy peignoir that made her look like an angel, and an expression on her face that made her look like sin itself. I was completely overcome--four long strides and I was kissing her like… a madman, actually. One hand in her hair, the other attempting to get beneath the fabric.”

“Sounds delicious.”

Jack looked at Phryne, who was looking suspiciously aroused. He gave a self-deprecating shrug.

“It was going well until I realised I’d need both hands on her buttons and tried to pull back.”

“Tried?”

“Ever the detective, Miss Fisher. Yes, tried. Unfortunately, in my ardour I’d managed to tangle her hair around my cufflink and all I did was jerk her head.”

“No!”

“Yes. It was awful. And her hair was still wet enough that attempting to free it from the cufflink was near impossible.”

To her credit, Phryne was clearly trying very hard to treat this revelation with the seriousness it deserved. But there was no hiding the amusement in her eyes.

“What did you do?”

“Well, by the time we’d actually managed to disentangle ourselves, Rosie was near tears. She hadn’t expected her surprise to go awry, and she’d already burnt the roast dinner.” Phryne gave a cluck of sympathy there. “So we went to scrounge up some sandwiches from the parts of the meal that were salvageable, and then spent the evening playing the piano and talking. By the end of the night we could see the humour in the situation,” he said. “Despite the inauspicious start, it is one of the fondest memories I have. And I started removing my cufflinks before I came through the door.” 

Phryne shook her head, smiling.

“You are the loveliest man,” she said. 

“Not always,” Jack said--he was well aware of his flaws as a husband, and while he had no desire to repeat them he would not deny them either. 

“Alright,” she agreed, “you do have  _ some  _ aggravating traits as well.”

“And you, Miss Fisher?”

“I’m full of aggravating traits,” she replied promptly, looking very pleased with the assessment.

“I meant what was your worst illicit encounter?”

“Do you really want to know?”

“Well, I presumed you had some story in mind when you asked me. I would hate to deny you the opportunity.”

She tilted her head in agreement. 

“I was thinking, earlier, that the last time I was in this particular hotel I was not nearly so satisfied with the company.”

“Oh?”

“Oh yes,” she said, sighing. “Reggie Beck--well, Reinhold Beck, really, but he felt it best not to be too loud of his German citizenship and always went by Reggie. A very promising prospect, a fine specimen of manhood.”

“You are aware of your audience?” Jack asked dryly.

“You did ask, darling.”

“Carry on.”

“As I was saying, Reggie was a muscular Adonis. He was also a raging narcissist, but that detail comes later in the story.”

“I look forward to it.”

She looked entirely unamused, so he pressed his lips together and indicated his silence. 

“Now, we’d just returned to a room remarkably like this one, drenched to the bone after an unexpected downpour during our walk from the theatre. He removed my crimson cloak, brushing my hair from my face, and whispered: _ ‘Phryne, you’re trembling. I feel it too. Anticipation.’ _ Really I was just bloody cold.”

Jack stifled a laugh, pressing his lips tighter and doing his best to gesture the story onwards.

“Well, it wasn’t the most promising start, but I had high hopes, Jack. And as he drew me closer, there was reason to hope.”

“The promise of a German bratwurst?” Jack asked, aiming for innocent but unable to stay silent.

“Only if he was very optimistic,” Phryne said. “Though the size of the sausage is nowhere near as important as the quality of the meat. His was… more of a banger.”

“All sizzle, no substance.”

“Precisely. But at the time, I merely hoped for a satisfying evening. And as his hand slid up my creamy thighs--”

“Weren’t you just dressed in this tale, Miss Fisher?”

“Believe me, the tale of undressing is not something even I can bear to revisit. That gown cost nearly a hundred pounds and he ripped it beyond repair.”

“Truly a tragedy.”

She arched an eyebrow and continued. “As his hand slid up my creamy thighs--” Jack did as her story suggested, partially from a desire to explore this newfound freedom, but mostly because her breath hitched in the sweetest way when he touched her like that and it was irresistible. “--my creamy thighs, his member turgid with desire, my rosy nipples swelling in arousal--” 

He sucked one nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it before murmuring against her breast, “I thought this was the worst sex you’ve ever had.”

“I’m getting there, Jack. Are you interested in this story or not?”

“I’m beginning to regret asking,” he muttered, one hand still between her thighs, the heat begging him for more, “but please continue.”

“As his hand slid up, he _sneezed_.”

“He… sneezed?”

“Didn’t even pause to apologise. Then the man tested the waters, so to speak, and decided that perhaps it was not yet swimming depths.”

Not a discovery Jack had repeated; his fingers were wet with the evidence of her arousal and their previous lovemaking, and he dipped a finger between her folds to stroke her clit. She hissed and bucked against him, her legs falling open, her mouth parting. Jack pulled his hand away and she immediately sat up. Her cheeks were flushed, again, and Jack could barely resist the urge to kiss her.

“That was not fair, Jack,” she pouted.

“You had a story you wanted to tell. I would hate to repeat the man’s mistakes.”

“Well, the beach was not yet welcoming to visitors. So he suggested, and I quote, that I take his ‘tumescent quimstick into that sweet little mouth’, for lubrication.”

“What did you do?”

“Well, I did. I have no objections to the act--I quite enjoy it under the right circumstances--and I was hoping to salvage the evening.”

“It didn’t?”

“The man reached his peak faster than you could say Jack Robinson, patted me on the head like an obedient spaniel, said I must be very pleased to have handled him so thoroughly, then went to bed. In my hotel room. So there I was, naked, desiring sex, and there’s a completely useless man snoring in my bed.”

“You didn’t evict him from the room?”

“I tried! I’d seen dead men with more response. I ended up taking myself to the bath to attend to matters myself, slept on the chaise, and kicked Reggie and his quivering member out the door the moment he wandered into the sitting area looking for breakfast in the morning.”

“You didn’t offer him nourishment?” Jack asked, mock-appalled.

“A man ought to work for his dinner, Jack,” she said primly, spreading her legs once more and trailing a hand from clavicle to cunt. “And I happen to know that you have a voracious appetite.”


End file.
